


New Year's Blues

by bellestrashprince



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellestrashprince/pseuds/bellestrashprince
Summary: One-shot. Ashara Dayne is a real party planner, known and loved for her legendary New Year's Eve parties. But perhaps this time she has gone too far. Perhaps she shouldn't have invited her ex, Brandon Stark. Because this time she sees him, and he sees her, and it's heartbreak all over again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Been ages since I posted anything on here, so I thought it time to actually write some ASOIAF stuff. In this case it's a one-shot about post-break up Ashara Dayne and Brandon Stark. If you liked it please comment or leave kudos so other's can read it too. I love to hear your thoughts on my writing!
> 
> I don't really know what I was thinking, but the idea just popped into my head and I had to write it down. A better summary is on the way.

The champagne tastes bitter on her tongue, a cruel reminder of her feelings. New Year’s Eve, isn’t that supposed to be a time for joy and new beginnings? Ashara Dayne thinks to herself. Perhaps this is not the type of new beginning people usually have in mind. She eyes Rhaegar Targaryen sitting in her sofa, fondling with the black hair of his loud-mouthed girlfriend who’s deep in an argument with Gerold Dayne. He looks so happy, smiling at her every move, leaving her kisses on her shoulder when he feels particularly in love. They’re like polar opposites when they’ve consumed too much alcohol; she’s loud and boastful, jumping up and down, while he sits in some sort of blissful coma.

 _This is my life now,_ she sighs. _Getting angry at other couples for being happy._ She doesn’t quite understand how it could be so easy for them. How they could both simultaneously fall in love with each other, then remain like that, their feelings equally strong.

Her brother’s dancing with some girl she doesn’t know, at least not when she’s this intoxicated. She’d tried forcing some alcohol into Arthur’s system, and with her help he’d become much less stiff and nervous. That, at least, she’s proud of. There aren’t many things she can think of without feeling ashamed. If she’d write down a list of all those things, this probably wouldn’t be on it.

She can see him from here. He’s out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. Though she cannot see more than his silhouette in the dark, she’d know him anywhere, know that muscular back, those broad shoulders, the dark tresses that rustle in the wind. The sight of him, the knowledge of what she’s about to do breaks her heart, and yet she smiles anyway.

Ashara stops by the large mirror hanging over their CD rack to make sure she doesn’t look too miserable. The dark smokey eye makeup look like a mask on her face, concealing her true emotions. She knows she shouldn’t be lying in this way, not to him, but there’s something inside Ashara that tells her she wouldn’t be able to do this without it. And besides, her lilac eyes look amazing with the dark eye makeup. The scrunches up her dark hair to get more volume in it, applies another layer of her burgundy lipstick, straightens her back and gathers all the bravery she can muster (it’s not much) and starts walking towards the door to the balcony.

It’s much colder outside than she’d expected, the air raw rather than a chill breeze. It bites onto her skin, leaving her nose and cheeks a flushed pink. He’d like that, she thinks. He’s always loved the cold.

“I’m surprised you came.”

Brandon Stark turns around at the sound of her voice. Ashara almost loses her footing. She’d forgotten what it felt like when he looked at her. He’s still as handsome as the day she last saw him, still as bold and stubborn. She knows she’s only imagining it, but the look in his eyes is something she’d never seen before. Worry? Sadness? Longing? She’s not sure what she’s detecting, but immediately she feels the guilt come creeping up her spine, making goosebumps form on her arms. Or perhaps that’s just the cold.

“Well, you invited me.” His voice is low, almost like a soft rumble. She could dream about that voice. She wants nothing more than for him to say her name. “About that-”

“I know. Please.” Brandon gives her a questioning look. “I thought it past time you and I reconnected. No hard feelings. We could still keep in touch-”

“Ashara-” She melts.

“Admit it, you’ve missed me too.” The corner of her lip jerks upwards in a mocking grin.

Brandon sighs heavily, trying to gather his thoughts into a consecutive string of words. He stubs the butt of his cigarette on the railing, letting the small fire die in the light layer of snow that’s dusted over the black-painted steel. “Of course I have. But we split for a reason and I don’t know if-”

She repeats her previous phrase. “I know.” In that moment she would’ve done anything just to be able to be close to him once more. He looks like a kicked dog, the little snowflakes falling onto his jacket and collecting in the folds of the dark leather. Ashara realises she too prefers him in the winter, when the tip of his ears are a light pink and his smile brighter. He belongs in the cold, with the fog escaping his lips as he exhales. “Believe me, I know. But, Brandon,” she feels his body soften when she utters his name. She laughs. “It’s so like you to complicate everything.”

At her invite, Brandon chuckles too. “And you never take things seriously enough.”

Ashara smiles up at him. She’s always been tall, but he towers over her. Laughing, she missed that. Missed how it felt to genuinely be happy, and not only put on a show for the sake of others. She shouldn’t, she knows she shouldn’t for the sake of everybody, but gravity pulls her closer to him until their arms are touching and his breathing gets heavier.

They both look at each other and slowly Ashara feels herself inching closer to him. His breath is warm against her cheek. It reminds her of what it felt like to be his, to have his lips graze over her body, how warm his hands were, that feeling of security and comfort that she could only get around him. Brandon’s face is so close to hers now she might as well seal the deal, and he doesn’t seem to mind. _Brandon Stark, look what you do to me._

“There you are!” They both jump up, the moment gone in the blink of an eye. A woman in their age range walks towards them, brown hair pulled back into a loose bun, lips as red as blood, an oversized fur jacket draped across her shoulders. She’s pretty. Not as pretty as me. Ashara tries her best not to be jealous, but fails miserably. “I was wondering where you’d gone of-” The woman stops suddenly upon seeing Ashara. “Oh, hello. Sorry, didn’t realise you weren’t alone, Brandon.”

Brandon clears his throat awkwardly. “Barbrey, come and say hi to Ashara, an…” he ponders a moment on what to call her. “old friend of mine.”

A second later Ashara’s shaking hands with Barbrey. She feels sick. Old friend? She feels undermined.

“Yes, of course. Ashara Dayne. Hi.”

Ashara turns to Brandon, raising one eyebrow quizzically. She doesn’t know what to say or think. He understands anyway.

“Ashara, this is my girlfriend Barbrey.” Ashara can’t help noticing the way he lingered on the word ´girlfriend´.

“Dustin”, Barbrey fills in.

Ashara nods, still not uttering a word. There are no words for the disappointment she feels, the ache in her stomach, the loneliness.

“Sorry, I just realised I left the faucet running”, is the best excuse she can come up with, and in a haze Ashara Dayne leaves them both on the balcony and walks back into the warmth of her apartment, Brandon staring at her back becoming smaller and smaller until she disappears, out of sight.

She hates the tears running down her cheeks, hates knowing the mess she’ll clean up after the dark eyeshadow has dried in streaks. She hates crying, always hated it. She hates the intimacy of the act, hates how people see it and think they know her. Ashara feels a warm hand against her upper arm, trying to hold her back.

“‘Shara.” It’s her brother. Normally she’d embed herself in his arms, let him cover her, and cry. But not today. No, not today, she thinks as she opens the door to her bedroom and shuts it behind her.

Ashara flicks the switch and the light glares, showing the emptiness of the room, exposing all the ugliness of it. She turns it off again. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, there’s nothing more Ashara wants to do than call Elia, but she’s busy travelling with her brother’s and time zones mean that she’d probably be fast asleep at this time.

Feeling empty and tired Ashara lies down in bed, ignoring the fact that her makeup’s still on and her bra’s on too tight, and falls asleep to the sound of cheers and exclamations of ´Happy New Year!´.

Outside, on the balcony in the snow, Barbrey Dustin has her arms around her boyfriend, giving him a New Year’s kiss, but Brandon cannot stop thinking of the look Ashara gave him and what it really, truly meant.


End file.
